Paying it Forward
by Mistressdickens
Summary: Written for day 9 of the Chelsie CS Countdown on tumblr. Christmas eve 1925, and Mrs Carson has a visitor to her sitting room. It's not Saint Nick, nor her husband (although the two are often mistaken for each other, in eyebrows at least), but Miss Baxter. They have a little tea and a little chat, and it seems like Mrs Carson might be able to pay her seasonal romantic luck forward.


**A/N: Written for day 9 of the Chelsie-cs-countdown on tumblr (so it's gone up on here slightly early, because I'm not going to be near my laptop until the evening, and didn't want people to have to wait all day. It's the 9** **th** **SOMEWHERE in the world (right Aussiegirl!?). Two ships for the price of one, as I was struck by Baxley hopes and the idea of passing on the baton! This is just my little head canon for certain things in the Christmas special, complete with character to boo at, in Panto tradition (that would be Mrs Pelham).**

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Except, thought Mrs Carson, as she entered her sitting room for the first time since the early morning, closed the door firmly behind her and sank down into the chair in front of her desk with a _very_ weary sigh, nothing could be further from the truth.

The abbey was positively overflowing with guests and there was to be a large dinner party that evening to celebrate the imminent marriage of Lady Edith to Bertie Pelham, which was finally to take place on New Year's Eve. If it had been down to Edith to make all the decisions, the lead up to the wedding would have progressed with a minimum of fuss, but Mr Pelham's mother, seeing that her cause to unite her son with the late Marquis's fiancée was completely hopeless, had arrived two weeks ago, full of grand plans, totally determined that her authority's swansong would be glorious. She rivalled the dowager for overbearing snobbishness, and even Mr Carson was finding that his preference for the family outweighed his deference to rank, as he sought to make Lady Edith's burden easier whenever he could.

Mrs Pelham claimed she was there to help, but Mrs Carson could only be reminded of Sir Richard Carlisle's similar sentiments, as he went about creating more work for the household. She had hardly ever been busier. There had been conferences about flowers, the guest list for the wedding (which had grown alarmingly, until Mr Travis had calmly pointed out that there did need to be room for the bride and groom in the church), and just today three changes to the wedding breakfast, which had caused both Mrs Patmore and Daisy to explode in frustration and threaten to stage a walk out and hide at Mr Mason's farm until the new year. Lady Edith herself had calmed those waters, arriving in the kitchen to placate the staff and reverse two of the orders, which had come (unsurprisingly) from Mrs Pelham.

'She won't find out until the wedding, and she wouldn't dare make a scene then. And if she does, I'll have her clapped in irons. I'm sure Marchionesses have that power!', Lady Edith had joked, before wearily returning to the library to discover what faults her future mother-in-law had found regarding that evening's entertainment.

So, all things considered, Mrs Carson had not had a moment to herself, and more importantly had not seen her husband for hours. This in itself was not unusual, they were both busy people after all, but she had hoped they might be able to snatch a few moments alone. Christmas Eve was always a special time, but now it seemed to her that the day was touched with a magic unique to them.

It was a tad sentimental perhaps, but on this, the first anniversary of his proposal, their being alone together, even for a short while, seemed of imperative importance. Neither one had mentioned the significance of the day to each other, but she was certain it was on his mind, for he had drawn her towards him just as they were leaving the cottage early that morning, and kissed her slowly and tenderly, and then smiled at her precisely the way he had done a year ago. He remembered, of course he did. Perhaps if she went to him now ….

Inevitably, Mrs Carson's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Expecting another demand from upstairs, she called out permission to enter, whilst simultaneously giving thanks that retirement was on the horizon, and soon she'd be able to spend as much time with her husband as she wished.

The door opened to her welcome and revealed Miss Baxter, who hovered in the entrance, looking very nervous. There was a quality to her tension that Mrs Carson thought she recognised although she couldn't put a name to it at that precise moment.

'Is everything alright? Anna's not rung has she?'

'Oh, no.' A brief smile flashed on Miss Baxter's face. 'Daisy says Anna was quite well when she took some lunch over to the cottage. Just uncomfortable, and glad of the day off. There's nothing the matter, but I wondered if I might have a word?'

'By all mean.' Mrs Carson gestured for her to come in and sit, attempting to hide her surprise at being sought out by this particular member of staff. It was rare that Miss Baxter needed her help, and although the woman had been generous in her assistance on Mrs Carson's wedding day, they were by no means close. It was more usual to see her in conference with Mr Molesley.

'It's a rather personal matter', Miss Baxter explained, blushing lightly, and looking at her hands. She gave no indication that she planned to say anything further, however. Indeed when she finally looked up, her eyes expressed total confusion and they almost pleased for help of some sort.

'Why don't I get us some tea and then we can have a chat?' Mrs Carson bustled off to the kitchen, fairly sure by now that she knew the reason for her unaccustomed visitor. The tea would help.

When she returned to her sitting room, she found that Miss Baxter had taken a seat by the desk. Pouring out the tea, Mrs Carson handed a cup over to the other woman and settled into her own chair. She sipped her tea, calmly waiting for Miss Baxter to overcome the nerves that were so clearly troubling her.

It was near to five minutes before Miss Baxter raised her eyes from the cup and found her voice. 'Might I make an impertinent observation? You and Mr Carson seem to be very happy.'

Mrs Carson smiled, unaware that her entire face had lit up at the remark. 'We are. I don't deny it's been difficult, managing this new relationship, but what makes all those troubles worthwhile is that we love each other. That's how I feel at least, I don't presume to speak for Mr Carson!'

The two women shard a smile at this wry observation, before Miss Baxter returned her gaze to her tea cup, running her finger around the edge a few times before she gathered her courage to speak again.

'Would it be too intrusive to ask when you knew you loved him?'

Mrs Carson was amused by the circuitous route Miss Baxter was taking to arrive at her real question that she assumed was the reason she had been sought rather than Mr Molesley. She rarely spoke of the burgeoning romance between her husband and herself. Even Mrs Patmore had not enquired in too great a detail, but there was something about this day, and the suspicions Mrs Carson had about a certain person's intentions which determined her to be more forthcoming than usual.

'It's a difficult question to answer. I think I tricked myself into believing I only felt warm friendship for so long that I was ready to accept that was all there would ever be. Mr Carson keeps his emotions well hidden, so it wasn't until he actually proposed on the night of the tenant farmers' party that I realised he felt the same.'

'He proposed on Christmas Eve?', Miss Baxter gasped, 'I had no idea. You didn't announce it until New Year. I never would have guessed! Oh, and here am I keeping you from him. You should be celebrating!'

Miss Baxter set down her cup and made to stand, but her actions were still by Mrs Carson's hand on her knee.

'If it wasn't you, it would be someone else. We'll have time to remember later tonight.'

Miss Baxter nodded and settled back into her chair, losing herself to contemplation once more. Mrs Carson carefully watched her face as a great many emotions played across it. The silence stretched out between them, until Miss Baxter broke it.

'I think Mr Molseley is planning to propose to me.'

It was as Mrs Carson had expected. She had been watching the staff more closely since her retirement had been confirmed, treasuring the personal elements of the downstairs now that the experience was finite. She did not regret the decision, but the mismatched group she regarded as her family now felt more precious. The care Mr Molesley and Miss Baxter showed each other had not escaped her notice.

'How does that make you feel?'

'I'm not sure I deserve such happiness.'

Once again Mrs Carson leaned forward to place a warm hand on the other woman's knee.

'The past should only be remembered when it is of use Miss Baxter. I don't pretend to know the whole of your history, and I don't need you to tell me now, but it seems to me that through all your troubles, Mr Molesley has supported, defended and stood by you. The past does not stand in his way, so why should it stand in yours?'

'You're right, of course you are. He is a very, very dear man.'

Mrs Carson burst into laughter, startling the pensive woman opposite her. 'Forgive me', she said, shaking her head at herself. 'I don't doubt the sentiment, it's just I said the very same thing to Mrs Patmore at the start of the year, when what I really meant was 'I love him so very much I can't believe one heart could hold so much.''

Miss Baxter let out a small sob, lifting her hand to her mouth and nodding fiercely in agreement at the truth laid before her, as tears pooled in her eyes.

'Well then, if you love each other, it would be wrong to let the past come between you. It is no great scandal for servants to find love anymore, and I've proved this household can cope with a married housekeeper, even if her husband is the village school teacher rather than the butler.'

'I hope I do you justice Mrs Carson, I really do!'

The sincerity of the statement, and the significance of the name Miss Baxter used was not lost on the current housekeeper, and squeezing the future keeper of the keys' hands, she stood up.

'I am honoured to share the role with you, just as I will be to share the magic of the season if a certain even takes place.'

Miss Baxter blushed again, but was prevented from making a reply by a knock at the door.

'Mrs Hughes, I was wondering if you'd seen … oh!'

Mr Molesley stood framed in the doorway, looking terribly pleased, and yet also ever so nervous, to have found his quarry so easily.

'Ah …. Well. Miss Baxter – I was wondering if you've got time for a chat in the courtyard?'

To her credit Miss Baxter gave no sign of the emotional conversation she had just had, nor did she indicate she might know what this 'chat' could lead to. She merely beamed at the man before her. 'Of course Mr Molesley, although I think the dressing gong is due soon.'

'Take your time Miss Baxter. I'm sure Mr Carson might be persuaded into a slight delay. I'd let you off entirely, but with Anna off, we'll both be needed. If you could attend to Lady Rose and Lady Mary it would be much appreciated. I have a feeling Lady Edith and Mrs Pelham will both take quite a bit of my time – although for different reasons!'

Mrs Carson watched at the pair made their way to the courtyard and then turned to seek out her husband, knocking on his pantry door before entering. He was decanting the wine for the night, so his attention stayed firmly on the bottle in front of him, although his eyebrows lifted in welcome.

'Would you mind delaying ringing the gong for about fifteen minutes? I think Miss Baxter would appreciate it.'

'Have we set a trend for Christmas Eve proposals of marriage then?'

'I certainly hope so!', she laughed as she sank down into the chair by the fireplace, and allowed her gaze to settle on the ring which adorned the finger of her left hand. Her contemplation of past events was interrupted by the sound of her husband blowing out the candle underneath the wine bottle, and she looked up to find he was moving towards her.

'You didn't need to stop on my account. I was quite content to just sit with you for a while.' She placed her hand in the one he stretched out to her and was surprised when he pulled her upright and then placed a hand loosely on her waist.

'Are you content Elsie? Has it been alright, getting stuck with me?'

She smiled at him, shaking her head at the fact he had to ask, and stepped closer to him, placing a hand on the middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat through her finger tips.

'More than alright, because even with every misunderstanding, cross word and frustration, I have had your love, which makes it all worthwhile. I can assure you, I wouldn't change my answer if events were repeated.'

He drew her infinitesimally closer, and ran his free hand up her arm along her shoulder and lightly brought it to rest at the back of her neck.

'Will you marry me Elsie?' he said, even as he lowered his lips towards hers.

'Absolutely' she whispered in return, rising up to close the gap between them.

Their lips met and slowly, sensuously, the two of them shared their love in a kiss that seemed to last an age, spoke of much, but still left a great deal to be shared at a later date, when the grip of working life had released them for the day, and they were able to celebrate the most special of anniversaries in proper fashion.

Some twenty minutes after initiating this kiss, Mr Carson departed to ring the gong, and as Miss Baxter dashed up the stairs towards Lady Grantham's bedroom, Mrs Carson caught the glint of a small ruby on her left hand.

The magic of the day had indeed been passed on to a new couple. Mrs Carson was truly delighted and could only hope the tradition continued. Love was an excellent legacy to pay forward, and with that in mind, she went to sow the seeds of possibility in Mrs Patmore's mind.

 **A/N: So, it turns out that the poem 'A visit from St Nicolas' from which the first line of this story comes, was written in 1823, but even if it had been written in 1975, I would have for once committed the sin of anachronism, because it so fitted with the image I wanted to conjur (and then destroy, much like I imagine Mrs Pelham will destroy the peace of wherever she resides in the CS. I can't wait! Anyway …. I hope you liked this, even if it wasn't complete Chelsie fluff. I really loved the idea of her sharing the special day with another couple! I thought Mr Molseley would want to give his beloved an engagement ring, and he'd choose a ruby, because the price of a virtuous woman is above them, so it symbolises his respect and love for Miss Baxter.**

 **A review or two would set me up forever!**


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